


Donna, Immobile

by Paul A (pedanther)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Banter, Gen, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-13
Updated: 2008-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pedanther/pseuds/Paul%20A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna is strapped into some kind of alien thingummy, which is ticking and counting down to something (and not even in proper numbers, so not only does she not know how she's going to die, she doesn't know how long she has left). The Doctor, irritating man, is refusing to admit this is a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Donna, Immobile

**Author's Note:**

> [First published on alt.drwho.creative. Archived 2015-09-06.]
> 
> This story was written and first posted well before the season finale, so any overtones that have retroactively attached themselves to the Doctor's cheerful view of Donna's future are unintentional. (Unless you feel they improve the story, in which case, obviously, I meant to do that.)
> 
> Anyone who feels inclined to nitpick the Doctor's theory is invited to remember that the _real_ Rule One is "The Doctor talks a lot of nonsense when he's shooting his mouth off".

"Give it to me straight," Donna said. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Of course not," the Doctor said – a bit _too_ quickly, in Donna's opinion, and without even looking up from the control panel he was attacking with his sonic gadget.

"You don't need to hide it, Doctor. I don't know what this alien thingummy I'm strapped into does – and don't think I haven't noticed you not telling me – but it's ticking and there's some kind of countdown, and that's never a good sign." She frowned at the countdown indicator. "It's not even proper numbers, so not only don't I know how I'm going to die, I don't even know how long I have left."

"Over half an hour."

"You didn't even look!"

"No, but I have an excellent memory." The Doctor switched off his gadget and turned to face her. "Donna, you are not going to die. I'm going to get you out of this in the nick of time, and you're going to live. One day, you'll go home, get married, and have a beautiful daughter who'll make you very proud."

"How do you know? Peeked into my future, have you?"

"No, not as such, but I also have excellent pattern recognition skills."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, the first time Rose – you remember I told you about Rose? – the first time I met Rose's mother, she slapped me. And after Rose was Martha, and the first time I met Martha's mother, _she_ slapped me." He rubbed his cheek reflectively. "And in between those two, there was you, and–"

"You've never met my mother. You didn't talk to _anybody_ at the reception, and when I invited you in for dinner, you said you didn't do family dinners. Mind you, if people's mothers keep slapping you, I can see why."

"The point is, the first time I met _you_ , _you_ slapped me."

"And that means... what? that I'm destined to be the mother of one of your travelling companions? That's ridiculous!"

"Oh, probably," said the Doctor, grinning. He switched off his gadget with a flourish (when had he started working on the control panel again?) as all the restraints snapped open. "Kept your mind off dying, though, didn't it?"

"Well," Donna said, as he helped her to her feet, "that's one part of the prediction wrong already."

"Oh?"

"You said you'd get me out of there in the nick of–"

The ticking stopped. The countdown, when they turned to look, had also stopped, displaying a row of identical squiggles. Various parts of the alien device began to glow menacingly.

"You _said_ ," Donna amended, "there was over half an hour left!"

"Talk later," the Doctor said. "Run now!"

They ran.


End file.
